the space between raindrops
by hulklinging
Summary: ...reminds me of you and me. They fight. It's raining. But Billy always finds him.


Billy's probably looking for him. It's been hours, probably. He has no watch, no way of knowing how long he's been gone. He left his phone on the table when he stormed out.

Billy is probably freaking out.

He shouldn't have done that. He fucked up. They were arguing, and it got to the point where someone usually gives, only no one did, and then he was suffocating, because if Billy leaves, he has nowhere to go, nothing left. So he made sure to do the leaving. Again.

Sitting in the rain next to his mother's grave, he knows that's not true. He knows that his leaving last time was something he needed to do. He knows he has has friends he could stay with, he has people who love him, and even if they did break up, he knows Billy would still be among that number. Rationally, he understands this. But that does little when he's lost in his own head. When all rational thought flees, he's left alone and helpless and he doesn't know how to make it stop.

He chokes out a laugh, because he's supposed to be the heir of two empires, and he sits here with absolutely nothing to his name. Some saviour he would have been.

"What am I supposed to do, Mom?" He pulls his knees to his chest and thinks small, feels his body shift to accommodate. No matter how hard he tries, he can't quite manage to disappear entirely.

His mom doesn't answer. Sometimes, he pretends she does, but he's having a hard enough time trying to remember how to be himself, without recalling his mother's voice as well. One day, he'll reach for the memory of his mother's voice and come up with hands empty. When that happens... he doesn't know what he'll do. He decides not to think about it right now.

He should go home. Get his phone, let Billy know he's sorry, and safe, because he knows his boyfriend well enough to know he's probably wandering around looking for him, and that's Teddy's fault, another thing he has to try and fix.

He's just going to sit for a few more moments. Just going to count breaths a little longer.

He doesn't hear him approaching, only belatedly realizes that the rain is no longer hitting him. He looks up, and Billy's there, umbrella in hand. He's in just a t-shirt, shivering from the wind, but he doesn't look angry. Worried, yes, but relief shows in the ghost of a smile on his lips. Teddy should say something, but his brain is stuck on the umbrella, because Billy doesn't like them, doesn't use them, would rather make himself waterproof than bother with one at all.

"Did you use a wish to find me?" It comes off accusing. He doesn't mean for it to. He just can't seem to get his feet under him. He can't remember the last time he felt like he was on solid ground.

"Didn't need to." He sits down next to him, lets the umbrella cover both of them. "You've been coming here a lot."

He's not wrong. Still, the fact that he knew to come here makes Teddy smile, feel comfortable enough to lean against him. He searches for an apology, but can't quite find the right words.

"I brought you an umbrella," Billy says, soft in their shared air. "In case you didn't want to come back with me. So you don't get soaked."

Teddy's already pretty wet, but that's not the point. Teddy hears what Billy's trying to say, because Billy so often hovers, until they're okay again. He brings an umbrella and says it's okay, if you need space. It's okay if what you need right now isn't me, but I'm here when you do.

He brings an umbrella and says I love you.

The words come easy now.

"I'm sorry," Teddy whispers. "I'm ready to go home now."

"I'm sorry, too." Billy leans over, passes off the umbrella, lets his hand linger. Teddy holds the umbrella and his boyfriend's hand, and the ground beneath him feels a little more solid.

"Let's go home," he says. Billy smiles, and they stand up together. If Billy notices it's the first time he's called the Kaplans' house 'home' out loud, he doesn't say so. He just squeezes Teddy's hand, and they walk home.

In this moment, the umbrella feels like it's shielding them from more than just the rain. Here, in this moment, it's a shield from the world, from everything but him and this boy who loves him, loves him in all the little ways, the ways that sneak into the cracks of a life and grow there. And he loves him back, in the space between the raindrops, in their clasped hands.

In this.


End file.
